


A Sweet Sting

by redvelvetroulettes



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Holidays, Other, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-06-08 04:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15235119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redvelvetroulettes/pseuds/redvelvetroulettes
Summary: Yeah, he was a sweet boy but his aura left the mind stinging.





	A Sweet Sting

**Author's Note:**

> Just some typical high school cheesiness! Uhh shoutout to ASB at school for lowkey inspiring me to write this bc every day in december y'all loved selling them candy canes hhhh !

It wasn’t the fact that your teacher babbled about Tuesday’s test and you couldn’t conspire any speculation about what she said, nor was it the fact that you were on the brink of dozing off and that you sat right smack in the front of the class where the teacher could give you a side-eye. No, it wasn’t any of that, and it was never any of that since this subject was one you had such a tenacious grip on that you knew like the back of your hand. Inexplicably enough, you should have been taking a mental note of next week’s test as school was a priority for you, but in lieu of that, it was the ruffling through the hair, the affable giggle, and the suave, almost slick tone of voice a certain someone had that was it for you.

To see someone carry themselves in such a manner left you jaw-slacked constantly, and this, to put it frankly, your hand at night, as you lied in bed atop cotton-polyester, took this thought to an extreme extent, as it trailed down your hips, leaving you whimpering out of pure guilt and desperation, and in a puddle of shamed, soaked underwear. It was never fair–to witness Adonis’ reincarnation, such pulchritude in its sheer form, but you had to hinder yourself from acting upon these measly thoughts of yours.

Wen Junhui was the absolute, outright, most–“Y/N? Did you not get enough sleep last night? I know you guys are leaving this school in half a year and don’t have much fuel left to power through this year, but please, stay with the program,” your teacher’s words rattled you, yet still went in one ear and out the other, “all of you, please get at least 6 hours of sleep, because I know 9 hours isn’t realistic for you guys anymore.

A searing spring of mild distress coiled around you tightly, seizing your body in the warm atmosphere of humiliation. Internally sighing, you turned around as your classmates were groaning “Ugh, same!” because you were oh so relatable, just to capture a fragment of a glimpse of the criminal who invaded your thoughts every class period.

Nothing but a blank look of boredom was sprawled across his face–the face that undid your every train of thought and had you run over from blatant admiration. You didn’t really intend to occupy his gaze for an unadorned, yet heightened 3 seconds, but when Wen Junhui looked at anyone, he looked at them.

“I get you. I’m tired as hell too and I really don’t have enough energy to carry on through the damn year, but trust me, we’re all dying, and we can get through this together,” the lackadaisical curve bestowed upon such a magnificent portrait flashed at you, and out with his words came a silky yet mellow resonance.

Was it possible to want to touch someone’s voice, to actually hold their voice in your hands? Yes, because you wanted nothing more than to twiddle your thumbs over the texture of Junhui’s voice. Every interaction you had from him, though there were barely any in your repertoire, turned you into a jumbled mess of the alphabet. You couldn’t comprehend what actually happened in the last 5 seconds but you were pretty sure that every ounce of your being had melted away and dripped into your thoughts, through the cracks of Jun’s palms.

“Uhh, thanks for reassurance?” You barely managed to squeak out before turning back around, as if you were the last morsel of toothpaste and Junhui’s reaction was an idly squeezing hand.

Wen Junhui spoke to you. Yes, he did, as in vibrations caused by molecules and the energy in his throat was directed towards you. This didn’t send you to the moon and back, but it fired you at the fastest speed possible to all planets in the Milky Way NASA discovered, including Pluto. 

It wasn’t that you floated around school and camouflaged into the surface of the locker that you barely talked to Jun, not really, but when given the chance by some gracious deity up there to encounter him in some way, you shied away, which was followed by a mental slap to your frontal lobe.

It wasn’t that easy, however, to just approach someone as beloved around the school as Jun, and it was never that easy for someone that didn’t really demand for his attention. That kid was bolting through the school daily, so who cared about eggshells? He crushed them. Even getting a glimpse of him outside of school was nonexistent, as he had some sort of martial arts practice, or something of that branch, and you’d heard around from senior buzzing that he was apparently a good dancer too, so there would be no way for you to ever catch him.

Sigh. What the hell were you doing with some frivolous little crush on Junhui? It wasn’t like you were at the most somewhat dismayed when you watched some girl pull Jun by his collar to sneak a kiss at him, and it certainly wasn’t like you were kind of crestfallen when you saw another girl wrap her arms around him in his car, no, maybe to some extent, but never heartbroken. How downright ludicrous would it be for you to swell up with these feelings over something as trivial as a crush?

And fuck, oh fucking hell did you loathe that word, and every time it clouded your thoughts you wanted to groan in resentment. 

Freshman year, when you spilled the beans to your circle of friends about how you felt about this boy, the only word you’d ever retained from the pep talk they gave you.

“Y/N you’re so cute, aw! You’re out here with a little crush!”, “So, does Jun know about this crush of yours?”,  
“Are you really going to tell him about your crush?”, “Oh boy, I swear to god if this kid crushes that frail heart of yours he’ll never see the light of day again.”

Such a foolish word with its steady grasp on you. It just seemed to ruin you through its fingers, watching your downfall, you crumbling to your core in the palm of its hand. Poor you, letting yourself get destroyed single-handedly by nothing more than a puny little 5 letter word. It was utterly tragic, and you didn’t really do anything about it, but there was just something tugging at you from inside, somewhere, but you didn’t know where, and any kind of concurrence you had with that boy, it just dragged you into its toxic hell of embarrassment. 

For the rest of the period, you stayed with whatever dignity you had left clutched to your chest, alongside the half-eaten candy bar you had on your desk in case of a breakdown later. 

Junhui’s eyes weren’t even trying to catch you in its line of sight in the slightest bit, nope, none of that, but that thought lingered in the corner of your mind throughout the lesson, thus you couldn’t even curl yourself into a ball, but more so crammed your flushed being into a messy mingle of entangled limbs.

+

“Hey!” you whipped your head around faster than the tiniest ounce of unease could knock you over.

Thank fuck; it was nothing more than student body trying to get you to buy candy cane grams. 

You didn’t want to be rude to the students who actually tried at school, whether that be by making friends or attempting at the ugliest mayhem of a math problem, so you hastened your steps towards the boy in the middle with the widest grin you’d ever seen.

“...and then just sign off with your name and we’ll deliver it to them tomorrow in class!” the student in the middle, who you recalled as Seokmin...who also ran around the school, exclaimed.

“Um, thanks, but I think I might just buy one tomorrow, I don’t think I have enough mon–” “Hey, Y/N! Thought you were having lunch with us today?” your friend, Yeri, cut you off, in which was something you both did to each other that pushed your buttons, but today she saved you from seeming a tad bit coarse. And you didn’t want to come off that way to someone as amiable and genial as Lee Seokmin.

“Yeri, do you want to buy a candy cane gram here from student body?” Seokmin asked.

Your friend pondered for what seemed like a second in an hour, and rapid beams of affection radiated a little too strongly. 

“Um, I don’t think there’s anyone–wait, actually...Wonwoo! Oh my god! He’s the cutest person ever, just the way his nose scrunches and his voice–fucking Jeon Wonwoo!” the way her pupils glimmered at some flashback she was probably trying to recall in class of Wonwoo doing his thing or something like that, it was one you’ve seen before. 

One you’ve known all too well, one you’ve experienced yourself before, but not for Jeon Wonwoo, but for another 6 foot tall hunk who never seemed to be around.

“Jesus, Yeri! I knew you liked Wonwoo but not to the point you’ve noticed frivolous habits of his!”

“Shut the hell up, Y/N, you’ve marveled at Wen Junhui for 4 years. Seokmin, Y/N will take a candy cane gram, thank you.” you couldn’t blame her, it wasn’t like you noticed his seasonal hair color changes, as this time of year you’d expected it to be black like it had been last year, but you were taken aback with a pleasant auburn surprise.

You didn’t hate his copper look, but rather thought about it too much to the point where you wanted your hands to be the one to dishevel it, your face to be buried in it when he hugged you, man, when would you learn to shut the fuck up?

“‘Dear Junhui, you’re the x to my y,” Yeri started, “and I might be shy, but you look like a goddamn snack all throughout the clock, I wouldn’t mind it if we get cockblocked?’ I don’t know, say something sappy, or you’ll scribble all over the paper.” 

I wouldn’t mind if we get cockblocked? You began to wonder what kind of crack they’d been selling at school these days, and how the fuck Yeri had gotten her hands on it.

“Whatever, I’ll leave it short and sweet. Oh! And I’ll leave it anonymous, so he doesn’t know it’s from me,” you wailed. 

An ample amount of reality had been inflicted upon you in what was an explicit and stinging 2 seconds you had to think, but you’d just realized that Junhui probably, no, definitely, received dozens of these every year, and it hurt to try and grapple onto sensibility like that. 

You’d both part ways within months, never going to bat an eye at each other, and it certainly wasn’t like you’ve made actual actual eye contact in the past, but instead of parting ways with Wen Junhui, he’d jaunt contentedly into his future, while you trudged, trying your best to forget about who ⅕ of your attention went to in high school.

Another slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you were sending him a candy cane gram (but Yeri totally shoved the cutely decorated paper in your face, you’d argue): Junhui was a sweet boy, and all you’d ever seen him as was a candy-coated type of person, but it left a mild, abiding prick in your mouth as you had danced and made a deal with Satan, whose middle name was Get Your Fucking Shit Together.  
Yeri shrugged as she knew you’d try to outargue her and have a neighborly sort of quarrel if she ever inquired to know your reasons for your anonymity. Plus, the line grew a little bit as you had both been standing there for the past 12 minutes trying to conceive a mushy message about two aforementioned losers, whom had both never left your minds. And, she didn’t want to miss out on her sandwich, especially because she prepared it herself this morning! 

“Thanks Seokmin!” you both slap your small papers on the sad, rickety, practically busted school plastic table, provoking the ugliest creak that in turn, startled a mess of raven hair into next week. 

“OhmyLordhaveanicedaythankyouforsupportingStudentBody!” a poor Lee Seokmin tried to string together a cohesive, buoyant sentence without having his left buttcheek slide off the chair.  


+

It was Wednesday. 

Maybe it was Hump Day, sure. Maybe it was the day student body announced that they were distributing the candy cane grams during 4th period. Maybe it was the day where you could’ve been your normal, muddled self, but in actuality, was it the day where you’d get noticed by a Junhui?

Whatever up there was working its powers, you expressed your gratitude towards in a sigh of relief, as you had already taken the test for this class. Tuesday had been promoted to being your beloved day of the week, your prized child that set up high expectations for younger children, but none could ever really live up to Tuesday. It was Wednesday today, however, as no one in all of existence had lived to experience Tuesday twice. 

Muah, you cradled Tuesday in your mind, not only had you not given Junhui any sliver of attention, but you also fucking aced that test. Tuesday was a godsend. 

“Ho ho ho, fellow children of Stats 3rd Period! You know, I really don’t know why my elves in the student body insisted on still handing these treats out, because you’re all naughty in my eyes, but whatever! A nice one is a nice one!” the whole class chuckled for a good few minutes as Choi Seungcheol, all clad in a red, velvet Santa suit (and was it mentioned Seungcheol took his role too seriously and got too attached to his fake white wig and the sad little beard he took pride in), tossed his mighty big, matching red bag full of candy cane grams into the air.

“Seungcheol, please just hand them out.” your teacher flashed an all to well known demeanor of disapproval towards the boy who probably won a $10 bet with Jeonghan for wearing the costume. 

Santa Seungcheol paraded to Junhui, and dropped 6 candy cane grams individually on his desk, each one clattering uncomfortably atop the splintered desk.

“Ya know, I thought they’d all be from Minghao and Wonwoo trying to troll you again, but uh, congrats?” Santa simpered to his friend. 

“Well, they are somethin’. Tell Jeonghan I said ‘hi’, will ya?” Jun quipped back to a sighing, supposedly jolly bearded man who grunted in return. 

You’d almost swung your head around back too suspiciously to snag the nothing more than a persistent glimpse at Junhui, omitting any sort of scrutiny he had from reading asinine love notes to him.

Junhui beared nothing but a carbon copied look at every note that flashed leisurely before him. And then, it almost happened too quickly, but you’d ingrained it in your memory in slow motion.

Getting similar kinds of notes every time with different phone numbers everytime the student body distributed holiday grams was simply a routine for Wen Junhui, he’s read all sorts of notes.

You diverted any absorption from today’s lesson to Junhui curiously raising an eyebrow at the very last candy cane gram he’d received for today. He pouted his lips (well to anyone else it was just a pout, but to you, it was cute, ha, duh), and you watched as he seemed the slightest bit perplexed at this last note, which you’d so badly wished you could snatch for yourself to see if it was yours or not. 

The rest Junhui had stuffed lazily into his jeans’ pocket, yet you noticed (but you should really turn back around to the front, though) the very last slip of striped red and white received different treatment, and was placed into the front pocket of his flannel instead. 

You tucked away any sense of false hope you had garnered once Santa Seungcheol stepped into the room, as you were probably stuffed in denim instead of flannel.


End file.
